


Buy War Bonds

by sabinelagrande



Series: Concerning Philippa [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Costume Kink, Costumes, F/M, Female Phil Coulson, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil loses a bet, and Steve has no problems with that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buy War Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as [you don't feel you could love me (but I feel you could](http://archiveofourown.org/works/515931) and [why don't we get together](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518561/chapters/916000), where Philippa Coulson and Steve Rogers are in an established relationship. Happy Halloween!

Steve looks pretty good, as far as he's concerned. All the costumes he found in the stores were cheap things, made of flimsy material that wouldn't have even fit him in the first place. He pieced it together himself instead, looking around in out of the way thrift stores. The chaps were the hardest part, mostly because the people who wore chaps were very intimidating, but he did get it together in the end.

As he walks into the lounge of Stark Tower, he's confident he's the best looking cowboy this side of the Mississippi.

Maybe cowboys have been on his brain a little ever since he discovered _Gunsmoke_ , but he has a hard time being ashamed of that. He thought about asking Philippa to be Miss Kitty, then he remembered she had an actual gun, and it stopped seeming like a good idea. Phil's costume, as it turned out, was very close and very far from it.

"I'm going as a cat," she said when he asked, looking down at her tablet, flicking through files. "That's what I always go as."

"What kind of cat?" he asked.

"Ears and a tail," she said, looking up at him. "They're black, if that helps."

"No whiskers?" he said.

"You're doing very good to get the ears," she told him, and that was pretty much the end of that discussion.

He hasn't seen her all day and she didn't answer his last phone call. They didn't have any plans, but he thought surely she'd find him before the party. So, here is is, alone; he takes his toy gun out of his holster and uses it to push the brim of his hat up above his eyes, a move he has wanted to do since forever and wouldn't ever do with a real gun.

"Steve," Bruce says, spotting him first. He's wearing a black cape with a big collar and talking a little funny around his fangs, and he takes Steve's hand in both of his in greeting.

"Howdy," Steve returns. "How's the party so far?"

Bruce smiles a little. "Nobody's drunk and SHIELD hasn't called."

"Sounds like my kind of party," Steve tells him. He gets about three more steps in before Tony sweeps in to intercept him; he's wearing all green, except for his brown boots, and he props himself up with his massive bow when he stands in front of Steve.

He takes off his hat, making an exaggerated gesture with it as he bows to Steve. "Welcome."

"This is a long way to go to get a rise out of Clint," Steve says.

"Completely worth every penny," Tony assures him. "His face was absolutely perfect."

"You look great, Steve," Pepper says, kissing him on the cheek.

He smiles at her. "Maid Marian, I presume?"

"Little John's guarding the beer, I think," she tells him.

"Colonel Rhodes?" Steve asks.

She shakes her head. "Happy. Rhodey's a Jedi. I think he thought we were being mean."

"We're not being mean," Tony says, taking his drink out of Pepper's hand and sipping it. "We're being assholes."

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "And there's a difference?" 

"Huge difference," Tony informs him. 

"Master," JARVIS says- or it sounds like JARVIS, only as a horror movie lab assistant, "Miss Romanov is arriving."

"JARVIS has a costume?" Steve says, incredulous.

Tony looks at him in confusion. "Of course JARVIS has a costume." The elevator opens and Natasha walks in, not dressed up at all, which is not surprising in any way. "Hey, no admission in street clothes," Tony says. 

Natasha reaches over, swiping her fingers through the fake blood running down Bruce's chin. She taps them on her neck, leaving two red dots. "There," she says. "Bruce and I have a group costume."

Tony gives her a look. "Points for ingenuity," he says, nodding his head in concession. "You're in."

"Thanks," Natasha says dryly, going off in search of something, probably something alcoholic.

"Stop standing in the doorway," Tony says to Steve. "Mingle. We're mingling. That's what kind of party it is. Maybe more like a soirée. I'm trying to prove to Pepper I can stay calm for fifteen minutes at a time."

"Is it working?" Steve asks Pepper.

"Marginally well," she tells him, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"I don't know what you want from me, woman," he says. "I'm only human." Tony gestures with his drink. "You. Mingling. You must have mingled at some point in your life. Go get some food and start mingling."

Steve shakes his head, walking away before Tony can use the word 'mingle' one more time. He heads over to the buffet table, catching sight of Thor. He's dressed the only way Steve's ever seen him out of battle, which is still mostly armored. The only difference is that now he has a pair of fluffy bunny ears perched on the top of his head.

"Thor," he says, and Thor turns towards him, clapping Steve on the back

"My friend," he says, smiling broadly. "It is good to see you." He picks up one of the little plates, handing it to Steve. "Come, partake with me."

"Looks good," Steve says, picking things out and filling up his plate. He looks at Thor out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should say something. "So, I don't know if this holiday got explained to you very well or not."

"I understand perfectly," he tells Steve. "I am a rabbit for this evening."

While Steve is still trying to come up with a response to that, he hears Clint's voice beside him. "Hey there, Cap."

When Steve looks over, he almost throws his cheese up into the air. "Hey," he stammers.

Clint has really gone all out. His clothes are in tatters, his face pale and streaked with blood and grime; even his eyes are frightening, his pupils white and yellow. To be perfectly honest, Steve wishes he had his shield with him right about now.

"Captain America is afraid of zombies," Clint says, delighted. "I love it."

"Don't rub it in," Steve mutters. "And don't sneak up on me."

Steve knows he will regret saying that by the way that Clint grins. "Wouldn't dream of it." Clint looks around him, his eyebrows going straight up, and Steve frowns, wondering what's up.

He turns around and stops dead.

Phil is wearing a blue halter top and a little red and white skirt, white gloves, the whole outfit; she looks picture-perfect, crisp blue cap to shiny silver shoes, and it's possible that Steve's mouth waters.

"Captain," Tony says, "I think I found something of yours."

Steve can't talk- or rather, he doesn't, because he doesn't think he could get anything out that was even halfway intelligible.

"I lost a bet," she says, smiling calmly, but it's a little forced. She is not joking, as if Tony's grin didn't make it highly obvious. Steve doesn't really care right at the moment, because she looks too good for him to do anything but sit there and stare for a minute.

He doesn't snap out of it until he hears the click of a cell phone camera. "That's going on Facebook," Tony says, when Steve looks up.

"Pictures weren't in the bet, Stark," Phil says, annoyed.

"I wasn't taking a picture of you," Tony says. "I was taking a picture of him. Now have fun."

"You look absolutely gorgeous," Steve tells her when Tony leaves, no doubt to celebrate his triumph.

"I feel absolutely ridiculous," she says.

Steve frowns; Phil is of the 'never let 'em see you sweat' school, and if she's willing to say that where she can be overheard, then she really is upset. He strokes a hand down her back. "If you're not happy, we can go," Steve says, leaving out what he'd enjoy doing if they went.

"The bet was for an hour, Stark gets an hour," she says, rolling her neck. "Get me a drink and make it strong."

Phil is, as ever, true to her word. She mingles her heart out for a full hour, plus another ten minutes just to prove she's up to the challenge, but then she is _done_.

"Lovely party," she tells Pepper, in the sincerely insincere voice that SHIELD agents must be taught from day one.

"I'm glad you came," Pepper says, not offended. "Sorry about Tony."

"Nothing to apologize for," she says, with a tight smile, and Pepper doesn't press it.

Phil's perfectly calm in the elevator. Steve knows this is because the elevators have security cameras, but he's got to admire her cool. "We're staying here tonight," Phil says, and Steve frowns; she almost never voluntarily stays in the Tower, even though they have a suite of rooms. He guesses it's not that strange, though. She must have gotten dressed here, and he doesn't think she'd relish the idea of driving all the way across town in that get-up.

The door opens on their floor, and they might as well be stepping into a fancy hotel. "Welcome, Captain Rogers, Agent Coulson," JARVIS says, back to his old self again. "Enjoy your stay."

Steve tosses his cowboy hat onto the couch. "Thanks, JARVIS," he says, because it always feels odd to leave him hanging, despite the fact that he's not actually a person. Philippa is headed straight for the bedroom, leaving him behind, and he quickly follows, not wanting to let her get away.

"Where did you get that?" Steve asks, watching as she puts her foot up on the chair to undo the strap on her shoe; it is a crime that he can't see anything but the layers of her skirt. "I didn't think any of them would have survived."

"Stark had this one made," Phil says. "A vintage one would be too fragile and valuable to wear to a party." She makes a face. "Plus it wouldn't come close to fitting me."

"Oh," Steve replies, because he doesn't have anything interesting to say, caught up in looking at her again.

"My eyes are up here, Rogers," she says unhappily. "I'm getting out of this thing right now." She sits down on the bed, her skirt flouncing out around her, and Steve can see the smooth curve of her back, marred only slightly by her scars. He has a feeling they're not the problem; they're loaded with scars, the Avengers, and massive chest trauma is a specialty.

The problem is a little more mundane, but somehow it goes deeper than that. She's at the same time forty years younger and twenty years older than he is, and he knows that it bothers her sometimes, that she thinks she doesn't measure up; that is perfectly ridiculous, but he knows better than to call her on it and embarrass her. All he can do is keep her close, keep coming back to her, never let her go.

It doesn't hurt at all that she is a very good-looking woman in a very small dress.

"Um," he says. "What if I wanted you to keep it on?"

She turns towards him, staring at him in disbelief. "I cannot believe you just asked me that."

"I'm so sorry," he stammers, instantly mortified. "Forget that I-"

"No, I mean I literally can't believe those words came out of your mouth," she says, shaking her head. "I mean, everybody's read fiction about you and the USO girls-"

"E- everybody?" Steve says, his eyes going wide. "But I _never_ -"

"I know that," she says, "but it was awfully suspicious."

"I didn't even look at them," Steve protests, and Phil gives him a look. "I mean it. The ones who weren't scary-" a word that meant a lot of things, but mostly 'far too insistent on getting Steve into bed'- "were my friends, and it wasn't right to look at them."

"So I'm not your friend, then?" she says, and now Steve knows she's fighting just to fight, because she hasn't gotten it out of her system yet.

"You're a friend that I'm allowed to look at," Steve says. "You usually encourage it." Phil snorts at that. He sits down beside her, close enough that they're not quite touching. "You can tell me to go jump in a lake, but maybe? Please?"

She sighs. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"That makes two of us," Steve says, putting his hand on her knee. The girls had to wear stocking cream and eyebrow pencil, but smooth nylon is how he pictured it when he was all alone, how he thought it would feel underneath his fingers.

"I couldn't find references for the hosiery and undergarments," she says, as his hand skims up her thigh, underneath her skirt. "Stockings didn't seem right for the war effort, but-" 

Steve quiets her with a kiss. She seems tense and nervous at first, and Steve isn't sure this is going to work out at all, but she slowly relaxes, kissing him deeper. It's like he's kissing someone brand new, brand new but still all Phil, and the combination is intoxicating.

He fumbles with her garters, but they come open in his hands, leaving him free to pull down her panties. He was worried, afraid he was doing this for his own benefit and not hers, but she's definitely wet, wanting. He slides off the bed, getting in between her knees; he pushes the tiny skirt up and out of his way- doesn't cover much at all, but right now it covers everything he wants- and leans in. She gasps when he runs his tongue up the length of her, stopping to lick where she's most sensitive, lapping at her until she's pushing up against him, her hand laced into his hair.

"Stop," she pants, pushing him gently away. He looks up at her, all spread out, leaning back on her elbows, her face flushed. "I want you inside me."

He rests his forehead against her thigh for a moment, getting it back together, because if she says anything else like that he's going to ruin his trousers. He stands up, bending and kissing her while he works at his pants; the chaps aren't helping his situation any, but he gets his cock free of his clothing, stroking it quickly, getting ready.

Her head drops back as he slides inside of her, thrusting in a little more roughly than he'd normally do it. She just moans, spreading her legs open wider. There's no waiting around or dragging it out, not when she's clutching at the bedsheets, saying his name; she looks so good like this, so pretty with the polish coming off of her little by little, getting more wrecked by the minute. He thought he wanted this for a very long time, but wanting a girl in a costume is nothing like having Phil in one, so many things he wants so much right there in a neat package.

Phil is getting close, and he bends down over her, kissing her firmly. He can't help but move faster, his hand massaging her breast through the slick fabric of the top, and she comes around him, crying out as she shakes apart. That's all he needs, as much as he can stand; he pushes into her all the way and comes, his face pressed into the sheets beside her head, and she turns, kissing his cheek, his jaw softly as he comes down.

Then they're done and sleepy and quiet, but there are still all these clothes left to deal with; Phil is still wearing her hat, though it's halfway to falling off, bobby pins hanging haphazardly. He carefully helps her out of her costume before he starts on his chaps, which are much easier coming off than going on. The rest of it isn't bad at all, and then they can get under the covers together, curled up against each other.

"I have to ask," Steve says, and Phil looks at him questioningly. "What about the bet?"

She sighs. "Tony challenged Clint to darts."

"Where do you come in?" he says, frowning.

"I was enlisted to play winner, of course," she tells him. "Then Stark wanted to make it 'interesting.'"

Steve gives her a look. "You should have known better."

"I thought I did," she protests. "I was cheating."

Steve doesn't approve of cheating normally, but against Tony Stark, he can probably make an exception. "What did you do?"

"I magnetized the ten-ring and switched my darts," she says, without shame. "But I got out-cheated."

"How do you know he cheated?" Steve asks.

She rolls her eyes. "Once we were done, he couldn't wait to tell. He was incredibly proud of himself."

"How'd he manage it?"

"Hidden bone conduction headphones and a limited contact-lens HUD for targeting," Phil says, and it is somehow not surprising in the least that Tony used- probably _invented_ \- cutting-edge technology to win a game of darts. "I knew I should have had him searched."

"I don't want to say you got what you deserved-" Steve starts.

"Then you'd better not," she warns him.

"I won't," he says.

"Good," she says.

"So," he says, trying to sound casual, "do you want to keep the costume?"

She snorts, shaking her head. "I bet you'd like that."

"I'll throw it out right now if it makes you uncomfortable," he says earnestly. "But you look really good in it. Really, really good."

"We can keep it," Phil allows, and Steve tries not to act as excited as he feels. "That doesn't mean it's going to be an all-the-time thing."

"It wouldn't be special if it was," Steve tells her. "I like you plenty when you're not wearing it." He doesn't realize the double entendre until Phil raises an eyebrow at him. "I stand by that statement," he says firmly.

"Just don't get used to it," Phil tells him.

Steve doesn't know how to tell her that he'll never get used to her; she's sweet and devious and cunning and she changes his life on a regular basis. She's got him well and truly eating out of the palm of her hand, and every day he gets with her is a privilege.

"I certainly won't," he says, and Phil appears to be satisfied, at least for the time being.


End file.
